


Other Side of the Mirror

by MonkeysInPants



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Coitus Interruptus, D/s, Dubious Consent, M/M, Master/Pet, Painplay, Reversewatch, Roughness, metaphysical threesome with a dragon, reverse au, robo dick, robo vag, there is nothing safe or sane about this pairing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-02 02:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11499432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonkeysInPants/pseuds/MonkeysInPants
Summary: This is where I'll collect any stories I write set in heronfoot/beldam's Reversewatch AU.See individual chapters for more specific descriptions!





	1. Discipline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early in their acquaintance, Genji pushes his luck and Zenyatta puts him in his place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckets of thanks to [Beldam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Beldam/pseuds/Beldam) for creating this delightful AU and giving me amazing feedback on this fic!

Genji can't recall what he said to piss off Zenyatta. He remembers the warning rumble, the soft, dark tone of the omnic's voice ("Watch your tone, Shimada."). He remembers choosing to run his mouth; the desire to push Zenyatta's boundaries as far as he could. But he can't remember the words, because every single one of them was knocked out of his head the moment it collided with the wall.

One graceful hand - _so_ graceful, how can anyone be that perfectly poised, it drives him crazy - curls around his head, ivory claws pricking his scalp. The grip is firm and unyielding, grinding his cheek into the wall until he's sure he'll have bruises along his cheekbone by the morning. It occurs to him that Zenyatta could probably crush his skull like an egg. It's so easy to forget how strong the omnic is behind the gold gilt and gleaming white, like fine porcelain. And _fuck_ , why does that thought have to send a shiver of arousal down his spine to pool in his groin.

He braces his hands against the wall, pushing against Zenyatta's grip despite the danger. There's an itch in his teeth as they sharpen slightly, and a sensation of scales sliding against scales deep inside him as his dragon sits up and pays attention. It's not interested in a fight for once. It's as drawn to Zenyatta as Genji is, two moths flirting with a flame so fierce and bright it could swallow them up without a trace.

Zenyatta's other hand grips Genji's wrist like a vice, the pressure on delicate bones drawing a long hiss from his throat. With a quick jerk, Genji's hand is dragged up the wall to the level of his head, neatly depriving him leverage. Then the grip shifts and Zenyatta's hand slides up to lace his fingers between Genji's own, flesh and bones crude and ugly compared to Zenyatta's smooth metal perfection.

Zenyatta's weight is at his back. His hard thigh presses insistently between Genji's. The hand on Genji's head fists in his hair and tugs hard, tilting his head back. He bares his teeth in a snarl at the sting, but all sound catches in his throat when Zenyatta purrs into his ear.

"I think you need to be reminded of your place, _Shimada Genji_." His name is drawn out slowly, each syllable enunciated carefully and wrapped in all the disdain the omnic can muster.

The golden metal pressed against his neck feels incredibly cool, and Genji is suddenly hyper aware of his own body: His face flushed with heat. His breath coming in short gasps as if he'd just run a marathon. His heart pounding in his chest. And that he's shockingly, painfully hard.

"You enjoy it, don't you?" The hand in his hair shifts, tugging his head around so Zenyatta can speak into his other ear. The omnic’s voice is barely louder than a whisper, soft and dark, melodious and dangerous. A poison so sweet that Genji would gladly part his lips and drink it down even as it ate him away from the inside out.

"You enjoy being brought to heel." His head is forcibly tilted, baring the side of his neck for Zenyatta to press cold metal into. Genji wonders if that hard, beautiful face is as sensitive as human skin. Can the omnic feel the frantic flutter of his pulse? "You crave guidance."

If it was anyone else, Genji would have killed them. Under certain circumstances Genji might give up control for a few hours of fun, but never ever did he let someone _take_ it from him. Shimada Genji had crushed everyone who tried to take power from him. Shimada Genji would surrender to no one. Not until this beautiful, frightening, intoxicating, terrible, pain-in-the-ass, metal monk waltzed into his life and sank his exquisite claws into him. Everything about Zenyatta was just… unfair. Completely and utterly unfair. But he wouldn't even complain about it if Zenyatta would just press him harder into the wall and-

A sharp tug at his hair pulls Genji's drifting attention back to the present and the only protest he can manage is a soft, "Uh?"

"I asked you a question, Shimada. I expect you to answer."

Genji struggles to think back even a few minutes. What was the question? He couldn't remember, and the hand curled around his own is slowly tightening until he can almost hear his bones creak. But his mouth is dry and his mind is blank. All he can manage in response is a soft groan.

For a moment, Zenyatta squeezes harder and Genji thinks his bones might break. Then the pressure is gone, replaced by soft caresses, Zenyatta's smooth palm sliding over his abused knuckles. Omnics don't need to breathe but that doesn't stop Zenyatta from simulating a deep, long-suffering sigh.

"What am I to do with you?" Zenyatta scolds, as one might a beloved, but disobedient pet. "Sometimes I forget you're only an animal."

Claws card gently through Genji's hair and Zenyatta moves closer, his body nudging Genji's until he's pressed flush to the wall, his erection throbbing painfully against it. Zenyatta's thigh slides against him, making his hips rock, and for one blinding, embarrassing moment Genji thinks he might come then and there. Instead he shudders like he might shake himself to pieces and forces himself to listen to Zenyatta's words.

"You're a wild thing. Beholden to instincts and impulses. The needs and wants of your flesh. Untamed." Zenyatta rocks with him now, agonizingly slow and steady as the tides, eroding away at Genji's sanity. "Un _trained._ "

"A feral dog may growl and bite, not because it is bad, but because nobody has taught it how to behave. It needs a firm hand to guide it. To teach it how to be a good dog."

 _I'm not a dog,_ Genji wants to protest, but it's difficult to talk when you're panting like a hound in the heat.

"What's needed in such cases is not punishment," Zenyatta continues, "but… discipline. Don't you think, Shimada?"

Zenyatta stills as he waits for his answer and Genji thinks he might scream. Instead he grits his teeth and hisses out, " _Yes._ "

A single push of that firm thigh. "'Yes', what?"

Genji is ready to crawl out of his skin. _Why are you such a fucking tease,_ he wants to shout. _Why are you such an asshole? Why do you have to be so damn gorgeous? Just slam me onto the desk already and-_

"Yes," he pants out instead. "I need discipline."

Zenyatta gives a pleased hum, thumb stroking over Genji's bruising wrist. His other hand untangles from Genji's long hair to trail sharp fingertips over his Adam's apple, his collarbone, stopping when they reach the top button of his shirt, deftly undoing it…

"Did you know," Zenyatta says conversationally as his fingers journey down Genji's chest, his shirt parting in their wake, "that positive reinforcement is considered an important part of conditioning?"

There's not much Genji could care less about than training techniques right now, but he does his best to fake a noise of interest as he presses back against Zenyatta's unmoving thigh, trying to coax it back into movement.

Clever white fingers finish with his shirt and clack against the button of Genji's fly, making him suck in a sharp breath. So fucking close to his raging hard-on, and yet so far…

"Do you deserve a reward, Shimada?"

 _Shit_ , what's the right answer for that sort of question? Should he say 'yes', or would that just prove that he's undeserving? Is he supposed to say that no, he needs discipline first?

"Nh!" His hesitation is met with a firm press of Zenyatta's thigh, like _that's_ going to help him think faster. He bites down on his bottom lip, dragon-honed teeth drawing beads of blood. He has to say something, anything, before Zenyatta loses his patience-

There's a quiet knock at his door, and Zenyatta pauses.

_Oh no._

"Shimada-sama?"

Zenyatta's fingers linger on his fly a moment longer. Then the omnic withdraws completely.

_Fuck_

"It seems you have business to attend to, Shimada Genji. We can finish our discussion another time."

_Fuck, fuck, fu-_

Genji doesn't bother to look up. He can feel the smugness radiating off the stupid (beautiful, divine) monk just fine with his forehead pressed tight against the wall. He listens to the rustle of cloth as Zenyatta smooths out his kasaya, the quiet measured footsteps headed away from him, the door opening and closing, muffled pleasantries exchanged between their interrupter and Genji's tormentor. He doesn't move for a long time, just standing where Zenyatta left him, trying to breathe deep and calm his pounding heart. He's actually shaking with the sense of loss brought on by Zenyatta's sudden departure, and it absolutely won't do for anybody to see him like this. He doesn't care about anybody walking in on him and Zenyatta being… _intimate_ , but he refuses to look _weak_.

A second, even quieter knock. "Shimada-sama?"

" _Just a minute!_ " His throat is tight and dry, and he sounds hoarse, but whatever. He's pretty sure if he left the room right then that somebody was going to die. So he stands, and breathes, and ignores the goddamn inferno raging in his blood and between his legs, and finally starts to calm down.

He knocks his head against the wall a few times to shake loose remaining thoughts of murder, then moves to rifle through his desk. If he has to do business with a boner then he's really going to need a smoke.


	2. Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenyatta thinks about the times when Genji is beautiful, and the times when he is not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My continued undying gratitude to [Beldam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Beldam/pseuds/Beldam) for being a huge inspiration and all around A+ quality human being!

There are times when Zenyatta thinks Genji is beautiful. Perfect moments where his human is distilled down to the base components that make Genji _Genji_. He remembers them like snapshots, those brief instances where if he had any breath to lose it would surely have been taken away.

 _Snap._ Genji standing casually on a balcony railing, loose hair whipping around him. His back is to Zenyatta, but his complete ease is clear in the line of his shoulders. He is fearless, caring not a jot about the lethal plunge that awaits him should he lose his footing.

There's a cigarette between his fingers, another symbol of his irreverence towards death. Zenyatta abhors the habit and he recalls how after this moment he plucked the foul thing from Genji’s hand and let it fall away to the street far below. And yet, within that moment, there's something undeniably appealing about the way the smoke curls out from between Genji's soft lips before being swept away on the wind.

 _Snap._ Genji in the midst of battle.

There are few who dare cross the Shimada Empire, and fewer still who could ever hope to threaten it. But on the rare occasions that someone steps forth to actually offer a challenge, Shimada Genji is transformed.

Zenyatta has only seen Genji truly let loose once and it's the only time Genji has left him feeling awed. It's no coincidence that it's also the moment that Genji was the least human.

Powerful. Wild. _Feral._ That's what Genji is when he unleashes the creature bound within his body. Jade dragonfire dancing across his painted skin, making the coils etched there seem to writhe. Only it's not just illusion, because the dragon is _there_ , twined around and through him, and it and Genji move as one. Two souls, one body, one will. Fierce. Unstoppable. An inescapable force of nature.

His eyes blaze with a deadly green light. His lips are pulled back in a wide predatory grin that's full of razor sharp fangs and not a hint of mercy. He wields his sword like a continuation of his limbs, though he no longer needs it because his hands have grown claws as sharp as any blade.

Zenyatta remembers the whimsical thought that struck him then. That the transformation had nothing to do with the dragon. That it was just the true shape of Genji's spirit shining through.

 _Snap_. Genji at party. One of the functions where Zenyatta had to surround himself with humans, all begging for the barest scrap of his attention, and he only tolerated their presence out of necessity for his greater plan.

He hadn't seen Genji in over a month then, but suddenly there he was, looking out of place amongst all this pomp and circumstance. A wolf amongst the sheep. And for once, Zenyatta had spotted Genji before Genji had spotted him. So when Genji finally turned, under the pressure of Zenyatta's gaze, he was free to observe the moment of recognition.

It was a brief moment, that instant of realization, before Genji could slip on a sly grin and blow Zenyatta an irresponsible kiss. A second where it was as if clouds had parted over Genji to leave him suddenly in sunlight.

Zenyatta can only describe the emotion in Genji's eyes at that moment as akin to what he feels when touching the Iris. As if Genji was incomplete before that moment and only in Zenyatta's presence had he become whole. No one - not the simpering humans who flock to him, nor his omnic brothers who love him dearly - _no one_ had ever looked at Zenyatta with as much adoration and devotion as Genji did in that fleeting moment.

And how had he reacted to such a flattering expression? Well…

_I could destroy him._

_I could destroy him and he would thank me._

The thought had sat heavy in his mind the rest of that evening, as rough and irritating as a stone in his shoe. He tried not to revisit that part of the memory often. It ruined such a pretty picture.

 _Snap._ Genji coming apart beneath him, the knot of his being slowly unraveled by Zenyatta's hands and words and the press of body against body, until there's nothing left of him but what Zenyatta chooses to give him. The pleasure, the pain, and everything in between.

Genji's head tossed back, mouth wide, eyes shut, cheeks rosy. The hair clinging to his damp skin. Beads of sweat glistening in the dim light. The contrast of flushed flesh against white metal and gleaming gold. The flash of color from the bruises, from the dye beneath his lover's skin.

Genji frozen in the perfect moment of that little death, one of many, and yet the newest never less lovely than those that came before.

Yes. That is Genji. This and that and this and _this_. A chain of gold-framed memories. His wild, powerful, beautiful Genji.

But this… this human body slumped across his lap, still and silent in slumber. This is not Genji. And this is not beautiful. In _this_ moment all Zenyatta can see is a cage. The cage is built of blood and bone and sinew, and bit by bit it is rotting away.

His hand traces the signs of age. All the little creases in Genji's face. The crows feet forming at the corners of his eyes. The laugh lines that frame his mouth and seem to deepen by the day. The threads of grey unearthed from his soft black hair as Zenyatta cards his fingers through it.

His Genji is trapped in a decaying shell, and on nights such as this, as Zenyatta’s hands slide down Genji's strong jaw to rest over his throat, he thinks that perhaps he should release him. His fingertips stroke over jugular veins, feeling the slow pulse that flutters there. It would be easy just to press a little harder, damming up the flow of blood between body and head, depriving the brain of oxygen until one by one the neurons of Genji's brain go dark…

It would be easier than watching this frail collapsing body slowly suffocate Genji's fierce spirit. Easier than watching his beauty fade as his life drains away until nothing is left but shrivelled flesh and brittle bones. 

So very easy.

But Zenyatta’s hands withdraw and plunge back into Genji's hair. He seeks out tonight's lone grey hair, twists it around his little finger - a small joke, just for himself - and plucks it from Genji's scalp with the barest of twitches.

His lover stirs with a wordless mumble of displeasure, and Zenyatta is quick to stroke the tiny sting away. "Shh," he soothes. "Go back to sleep, my darling."

It would be easy, but it can wait until another day.

There is beauty in Genji yet.


	3. Bend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenyatta tests Genji's limits.

Doing the splits is, rather literally, child’s play for Genji. Flexibility training was part and parcel of becoming a ninja, so he'd been popping perfect splits since he was a boy. His joints may have stiffened some with age and injury but it's still easy -- after stripping from stuffy business attire down to briefs -- to slide into a middle split. Canting his hips further forward, he casually rests his elbows on the floor and props his chin on the heels of his hands before favoring his audience with a cheeky grin.

A soft 'hm' is all the acknowledgment he gets from Zenyatta, the sound neither approving nor disapproving, conveying only the sense that he's currently interested but could very easily become bored.

Genji rolls his eyes. It's not like Zenyatta can do the splits. But then flexibility is something that Omnics can only change through frame rebuilds. Maybe that's why the plasticity of the human body is one of the few things about them that Zenyatta finds more fascinating than abhorrent. Of course, the Omnic method is _better_ , but the manner in which humans can expand their (many, many) limits simply by pushing them is one of the species' more admirable abilities.

Just how much more could they achieve with a firm Omnic hand to press them as far as they can go? Just look at Genji…

Zenyatta doesn't even need to say anything for Genji to start pushing. The instruction hangs unspoken between them, and Genji shifts back upright. Taking several slow breaths, he spreads his legs wider, aiming not for what's easily manageable but for the limits of what he can manage. He stretches himself to the point that his muscular thighs begin to ache, where he feels the strain but it doesn't truly hurt. Satisfied, he looks up again. This time Zenyatta's hum is pleased.

Genji holds the pose as his lover circles him appraisingly, curious about where this will lead. The game is much too easy as yet for this to be all, but Zenyatta is taking his time to consider.

"Come on," Genji goads. "I don’t have all night." It's a calculated risk: Zenyatta might choose to take longer just to be contrary, but if Genji is lucky he'll be indulged. Or 'punished' for his impatience. Anything other than waiting is fine with him.

Tutting softly, Zenyatta kneels behind him, one knee on the floor, the other pressed delicately against Genji's back. Cool metal hands ghost over Genji's shoulders. One crawls up his neck to tug his hair loose from its tail. The other trails down his side, eliciting small twitches of muscle as Genji falls victim to being ticklish. Wicked, careful claws trace over his hip, pick at the waistband of his briefs, then curl around one muscular thigh. Genji sucks in a quick breath as Zenyatta gives his leg a firm tug. Already pushed to his limits, even the slightest increase in tension burns.

"Ah," Zenyatta says, and the satisfaction in that single note makes Genji's heart flutter. His free hand runs through Genji's long dark hair once, twice, and then both hands return to his shoulders. He finally gives his next command: "Give me your arms, my dear."

_Oh._ This is going to be harder than the splits. Swinging his arms back is the easy part. Then Zenyatta is there, running his hands along Genji's arms, pressing up on his biceps, keeping his elbows from bending. Graceful fingers encourage Genji to clasp his hands together so Zenyatta can easily control the angle of his arms with one hand.

Genji is already starting to breathe more heavily when Zenyatta's free hand catches his chin and tilts his head to the side. He leans in to purr against Genji's ear, and the ninja can't help but gasp at the increased pressure of the knee on his back and the pain in his shoulders as Zenyatta presses his arms minutely higher.

Voice thick and sweet as honey, Zenyatta orders him: "Tell me when it hurts."

 

It's a sort of game they play sometimes. The exact nature of it changes from round to round and there's no score, no losers, no winners. The only unifying theme is "How far can Genji bend before he breaks?"

It started with a tease, a taunt, an implication meant only to fluster Genji, to throw him off guard during the power struggles of their early acquaintance. So many of their first interactions were weaponized flirtations. They'd both say that Zenyatta won that particular war, but Genji hardly feels like a loser in the aftermath.

The exact moment when implication started to become reality was difficult to pinpoint. If Zenyatta was asked -- and was actually willing to talk about it -- he might say it was a simple moment during a game of shogi. Genji had taken a moment to stretch, as he had done many times in Zenyatta's presence, and yet _this_ time there was something about the way Genji laced his fingers together and pressed his arms into the air, something in the gentle arching of his spine, the roll of his neck. Something that entranced him, and made him want to press a hand to Genji's chest and see how much further he could make that strong back curve. He'd taken the human to bed instead, determined to work off his sudden fervor.

The moment Genji would pick came later. A day when he sat on one side of his desk, Zenyatta sat on the other, and a stack of paperwork sat between them. Perhaps it was the dull monotony of sorting through red tape that prompted Zenyatta. Genji had never asked. All he knew was that one moment he was scrawling his signature for the billionth time that day and the next Zenyatta was plucking the pen out of his fingers and tugging his hand toward him. The moment had been surreal, Genji watching silently as Zenyatta spread his fingers wide and tested the range of every single joint in his hand with such intense concentration and care, pushing and pulling until Genji tensed before moving on. They hadn't spoken of it afterward.

But it happened again, and again. Different parts of Genji's body, different contexts, sometimes sexual, sometimes merely sensual, but always intense and intimate. How far could Genji bend before he broke…

Not literally, of course. Not intentionally. There's an unspoken understanding between them that that 'to break' in these circumstances is to yield. And Zenyatta _does_ expect Genji to yield. It's the only rule of the game: for Genji to know his limits and tell Zenyatta when to stop.

He only broke the rule once. He had wanted to prove himself, to push past his limits, past the point where pleasure-pain turned to just pain. He wanted to impress Zenyatta with his ability to handle the stretch and the burn. Only Zenyatta hadn't been at all impressed when his shoulder slipped free of its socket. He'd made his disapproval clear with a cold silence, even as he coaxed the joint back into place and soothed the pain with the intoxicating golden warmth of his harmony.

After Genji's shoulder was reset and Zenyatta's temper had cooled, the pair had curled together on Zenyatta's bed, twisted up in soft sheets. Slender claws carded gently through Genji's hair, the Omnic's face pressed to his forehead as he explained to Genji that he wasn't mad, only disappointed, that he understood Genji had only sought to please him, but it was Genji's perfect obedience that would please him most of all, that he knew next time Genji would do better...

The chastisement had hurt, but Genji was soothed by the knowledge that there would still _be_ a next time. They were both more careful after that.

 

Genji's breathing is loud as Zenyatta continues to push Genji's arms higher. It's not loud enough to drown out the sudden chime of a phone from somewhere in the large suite. Zenyatta pauses, leaving Genji to groan beneath him, aching but not yet at his limit. Aching for more. The moment Zenyatta takes to consider answering the call or continuing his current task stretches long, the burn and anticipation making the seconds crawl by for Genji. Finally, Zenyatta's grip loosens.

"Hold this pose for me, my pet."

Sucking in a deep breath through his nose, Genji tenses, trying to keep his body as still as he can despite the loss of Zenyatta's firm touch. Zenyatta doesn’t fully release him until Genji gives a curt nod, too tense to acknowledge the order with words.

"Good boy," Zenyatta says, fingers trailing through Genji's hair one last time before he leaves the room. His absence is keenly felt, the welcoming bedroom suddenly seeming bereft of something vital. Genji just hopes the call is wrapped up quickly.

It changes the game, having to wait like this. It tests his endurance as well as his flexibility. The longer he stays in one position, the harder it becomes to hold. He tries to distract himself by counting the seconds until Zenyatta returns. His hip joints have begun to throb. His arms start to tremble with the effort of being held so tightly in place. His muscles burn as lactic acid begins to build.

He can handle it. He can.

He loses count, distracted by the pain rising throughout his body. It doesn't matter, Zenyatta will be back soon. Soon. How long can one phone call last? He just has to hold out a little longer.

He can handle it.

His breathing comes in short gasps. That's not good enough. He has to concentrate. Breathe slow, breathe deep, flood his blood with oxygen. Focus on the breathing, not the growing ache in his back, the renewed complaints from old injuries never quite healed, the scream of overstretched tendons…

He's not ready to break yet. It's just pain. It's _just_ pain. He can handle it.

Sweat beads on his downturned face, trails down his cheeks and forehead. He counts the drops as they drip off his chin and the tip of his nose. It tickles, and Genji lets out a wheeze that isn't quite a laugh. One tiny itch added to his growing discomfort.

He _can_ handle it.

Parts of him start to tingle, but the spreading numbness doesn't bring relief. _Fuck_ , where is Zenyatta? How long has it been? Who's on the other end of the phone line and can Genji kill them after this? Has he hit his breaking point? Should he stop? Just sprawl limply across the floor and wait for Zenyatta to return and comfort him? _You did so well, Genji, you tried so hard-_

No, he can handle this. If he stops too soon, he won't deserve the praise.

He can't keep his breathing steady anymore. His heavy panting is interspersed with little hitches of pained noises that escape whether he wants them to or not. Time stretches out seemingly infinitely.

_Can_ he handle this? He's not sure how much longer he can-

" _Genji._ " 

The word is filled with a startling amount of pure affection. Cool hands clasp Genji's flaming cheeks, urging his head up so he can stare at the most beautiful being in all of creation. And _oh_ , Zenyatta so rarely uses his given name. Genji's heart clenches.

"Relax," Zenyatta commands, urging his lover upright.

It's easier said than done with so much of him gone stiff and numb, his muscles too exhausted to move, his joints locked. But Zenyatta is there to help him. He feels the warmth of the Iris engulfing him and the tension begins to bleed away. Zenyatta rests Genji's head against his chest, strong arms encircling his trembling body to carefully unlace his clenched hands and guide them back to his sides. Zenyatta's arms slide back under his own, trapping Genji in a firm embrace, and he rises smoothly from the floor, lifting his lover like he hardly weighs a thing. Genji's legs feel far too much like overcooked noodles to stand, but it doesn't matter. Zenyatta is quick to scoop him up and carry him to bed. All the while he murmurs sweet praise. "You obeyed beautifully, my darling, you did so well, look how long you lasted-"

Genji still _hurts_ , though Zenyatta's power has begun to soothe the aches away, but it can't stop him from smiling adoringly at Zenyatta. His body may feel awful but everything else is so very, very good, like he's glowing from the inside out. He controls of one of the most powerful criminal empires in the world, and yet he never feels as accomplished as he does in moments like these. There's nothing as good as making Zenyatta proud.

"I want to hug you," he mumbles, and Zenyatta obligingly takes Genji's limp arms and wraps them around his neck. Genji tilts his chin up and Zenyatta leans in to meet his kiss.

"You did wonderfully today, my darling," Zenyatta says as Genji's lips work against the smooth metal of his face. His hands carefully massage his lover's aching shoulders.

"Do I get a reward?" Genji asks, as if Zenyatta's praise isn't reward enough for him.

"Later," Zenyatta answers, voice soft and amused.

Just for show, Genji huffs a dramatic sigh, but he's content for the moment to just bathe in Zenyatta's light and let his lover pamper him.

He knows his limits, after all.


	4. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragons are greedy.
> 
> (This time they actually fuck)

Something wakes Zenyatta in the dead of the night. 

Not an assassin, else he would have broken from his ‘sleep’ cycle in fighting form. It wouldn't be the first time a particularly skilled attacker had slipped past his guardians only to meet a swift end at Zenyatta's own hands. No matter how silent, none of them could hide the tremor of discord made as they entered the web of his awareness.

No this time he regains his awareness slowly and calmly, systems booting up one by one. Uncertain of what has interrupted his scheduled downtime, he keeps the lights of his body dark and maintains the relaxed lotus position he prefers in his rest, his orbs remaining still in their careful circle around him. He reaches out with his senses, more acute than any natural human's: The suite is dark and silent. No ringing phone or hesitant knocking. No tug of harmony or discord to indicate anyone closer to him than his Omnic brethren standing guard outside.

So what had--?

He feels the barest shift of the mattress behind him, his orbs hardly jostled, a moment before soft lips press against the golden disc decorating the side of his head.

“Wondered how long you’d take to notice.”

Zenyatta's hands clench tight where they rest palms-up on his thighs. The nine lights on his forehead blaze to life, matching the glow of his nine orbs as they lift from their resting places to strike at the body at his back. Only there's no one behind him anymore. Instead a too-familiar chuckle fills the room and warm lips collide with the seam of his faceplate. Shock keeps him frozen for a moment. Too long a moment. Then careful claws slide into long dark hair before twisting sharply and jerking Genji's head away from him. The resulting gasp--far more pleased than pained--sends a pulse of delight through him, but that's quickly swallowed by anger.

“ _Shimada_ ,” he hisses. Zenyatta is livid, and he tugs Genji's head back further, into a harsh angle that strains the limits of his natural flexibility. The uninvited visit is an irritation. The ninja has a habit of showing up where and when he pleases, whether or not he's wanted. Zenyatta’s true fury comes from the disturbing knowledge that he has become so inured to the human’s presence that it no longer registers clearly in his passive awareness. He curses himself for becoming so... comfortable with the man. People like him can't _afford_ to be comfortable. Particularly not with people like Genji.

“Zenyatta,” his human purrs, unphased by the iron grip on his hair or the awkward tilt of his neck. His eyes blaze in the dark with their own internal illumination. The flick of a tongue over soft lips draws Zenyatta’s gaze down, where the bob of Genji’s Adam's apple drags his attention lower still, catching on the long line of his throat, leading down to the hollow of his collarbone, past tattoos shimmering with ghostly green light… nothing but bronze skin and hard muscle to meet his eyes, no matter how far his eyes drop. He feels another pulse of heat.

“You are _not_ to enter my accommodations without my explicit permission,” Zenyatta snaps, voice hard as steel and sharp as knives, ignoring the temptation of Genji's bare body. “Leave.”

“How am I supposed to leave,” Genji says, baring unnaturally sharp teeth in a wide grin, “when you're holding me so tight?”

Zenyatta recoils from Genji like his hair had turned to live wires. Straightening up, back stiff, he lifts his chin imperiously to look down upon the human. “ _Leave_.”

There's a soft hum of amusement as Genji rolls his neck and shoulders, and Zenyatta’s attention is drawn again to the light rippling beneath painted skin in counter to flexing muscles. He doesn't think he's ever seen his lover's dragon so restless outside of combat. The light show is almost enough to distract him from the word that falls heavy from Genji's mouth, shattering his attempt to restore his harmony like a stone dropped into a glassy pool.

“No.”

He’s left speechless, frozen again. Genji doesn't say 'no’ to him. Zenyatta says 'jump’ and Genji says 'how high’. Zenyatta says 'kneel’ and Genji says 'yes, Master?’ Zenyatta gives commands and at worst Genji puts up a token resistance of sarcastic words before giving in gladly. But Genji does not tell him ' _no_ ’.

Taking advantage of the stunned silence, Genji gathers Zenyatta’s hands in his own and gently tugs them up to press against his flushed cheeks. Zenyatta remains still as fingers of flesh and bone lace through his own and Genji turns his face to nuzzle one cool metal palm, inhaling deeply. Dark red is encrusted under and around Genji's nails, collected in the creases of his fingers. The matching flecks spattered across his face paint a violent story.

“Leave,” Zenyatta finally manages again, voice hushed despite his desire to sound firm. It doesn't help his composure when Genji shifts his head to press a soft kiss to the center of his other palm. He does his best not to shiver.

Genji doesn't even look directly at him, luminescent eyes shaded by dark lashes, but even a sidelong glance pierces Zenyatta through. There's a casual ferocity there alongside Genji's usual adoration, like a tiger just after a meal considering if it wants seconds. And behind that hunger and desire, something _moves_ and Zenyatta is struck with the certainty that something much older than his human is looking back at him.

Then, as Genji’s fingers slide away from his hands to cup Zenyatta’s face, he _sees_ it. Just for an instant, as he's trapped by the intensity of Genji's gaze, writhing in his peripheral vision, he sees it. The thick, scaled coils twining lazily around his lover. The bristling of fur and the possessive clench of claws. The heavy horned head with many sharp teeth. Genji's dragon in all its glory, and all that ancient inhuman power focused on _him_.

A strange sort of vertigo washes over Zenyatta, his mind clashing with his gyroscopes, and he shuts off his visual feed to escape the weight of that stare. It doesn't help. He can still feel the dragon. Its power presses on him with a sensation like scales scraping against his aura, his, soul. Electric, tingling. How. How can something so old, so _powerful_ , be contained within a cage as fragile as human bones and skin? Zenyatta spent years mastering his mind, body, and spirit so that he could even hope to touch the power of the Iris, and this… this creature, practicallya _god,_ deigns to be bound to a creature as small and simple as Genji?

 _You're not giving Genji enough credit_ , his traitorous mind whispers, the part of him that holds Genji--in all his stubborn, irritating, fierce, proud, flawed, beautiful human glory--in high esteem. _If any mere human were to be worthy…_

A soft kiss pulls Zenyatta back to Earth, and Genji whispers against his faceplate. “No.”

Zenyatta tilts his head into Genji's kisses with a hiss of steam from his vents. His palms stroke across his lover's cheeks as his hands move to card gentle fingers through his hair. He doesn't tug this time, and he doesn't repeat his demand. Instead, he poses a question: “What do you want?”

This queer, cloying atmosphere of some fairytale romance is broken by a sudden snort. Zenyatta can feel Genji’s grin against his faceplate and his soft lips tickle when he speaks. “I thought that was obvious.”

A nearly silent click escapes his voice box, a small Omnic huff. Zenyatta is slowly finding his center again, calming himself with the familiar sensation of Genji's hair sliding between his fingers. “What does your _dragon_ want with me?”

That gives Genji pause, and he pulls back just enough to really look at Zenyatta. A beat. Then his face splits in a roguish grin, all sharp teeth and swollen ego. The sort of look Zenyatta always pretends doesn't make his fans kick up a notch because he doesn't want to give his lover the satisfaction.

“About the same,” Genji says with a playful tilt of his head. His hands drift down Zenyatta's jaw, pause a moment to tweak wires in his neck in that way that makes the Omnic shiver, slide across his beautiful broad shoulders… then plant square on Zenyatta’s chest to knock him flat against the bed with a shove. It's startling to find himself pinned unyieldingly to the mattress, used to wielding Omnic strength against soft human muscle. It's one thing to be aware of how monstrously strong Genji becomes when drawing upon his dragon. It's another thing entirely to find himself at the mercy of that strength.

“He likes you, y’know,” Genji says, straddling Zenyatta’s hips. His fingers splay over that pure white chest plate, shoving his kasaya aside to expose even more glossy enameled metal. “You're so beautiful.” Genji's head tilts as the dried blood on his fingertips mars the perfect finish. “So ambitious…” Casually lifting a thumb to his mouth, he runs the pad of it over his dragon-honed teeth, skin parting smoothly to let fresh crimson flow free. “So _powerful._ ”

Zenyatta doesn't need to see the bloody lines Genji scrawls across his chest to know what they say. His sensors trace each stroke as he's marked with the Kanji for 'Shimada Genji’. Genji sits back to admire his calligraphy, smirking with utter self-satisfaction. “Mine.”

The bloodied hand is raised back to Genji's mouth, this time to lick his sliced flesh clean. Zenyatta fixates on the agile pink tongue as it curls and slides around Genji's thumb, wiping away any trace of blood. He's distracted enough that he hardly notices Genji's free hand wrapping around his own and guiding it to press against his bare chest.

With a final swipe of his tongue, Genji’s eyes drill into Zenyatta’s with fierce expectancy. The hand over his presses harder then withdraws. “ _Yours._ ”

“Ah,” Zenyatta says, the noise hardly more than a hitch of his voice, forced out by a sudden wave of burning desire. His fingertips prick, testing tender skin, then with one careful claw he begins to trace out the Omnic glyph that is his identity. As red wells out of the thin scratches to spill down Genji's chest, Zenyatta muses about how pleasing it would be for them to scar over, permanently marking his human with his name. His brand.

“ _Ah_ ,” Genji echoes, eyes fluttering shut as his lover carves into him. His head tilts back and he braces his hands on Zenyatta’s knees, arching into the sting. For a moment Zenyatta thinks Genji might bite down on his lower lip, and he’s prepared to press metal fingers into his mouth to keep dragon teeth from savaging human flesh. But there's only the briefest prick of pearly teeth on pink skin before Genji simply opens his mouth and pants.

With a pleased hum, Zenyatta completes his work and lifts his hand to let Genji clean the blood away. His human takes to the task eagerly, moaning around Zenyatta’s finger as he sucks his claw clean. Such a skilled mouth. There are much better purposes it could be put to…

But Genji, perhaps, has other ideas. Reaching behind himself, he rifles through folds of silky cloth until he can plant a hand firmly over Zenyatta's pelvic panelling. His palm grinds down, coaxing a deep hum out of Zenyatta that's not quite a moan.

“Fuck, c’mon Zen,” Genji pleads. “We're _restless._ ” As if to prove the point, there's another phantom scrape of scales against his soul, a sensation of coils wrapping greedily around him.

“Not satisfied by mere slaughter?” Zenyatta relents despite the derision tinting his words--like he hasn't put down inconvenient humans himself when necessary. The complex panelling beneath Genji's hand folds open. Zenyatta doesn't need touch to become erect. The smart-polymer sleeve of his cock fills with hydraulic fluid, swelling him to full hardness at whim, stiff with hydrostatic pressure. But that doesn't make Genji's touch unwelcome, and he rolls his hips in encouragement as his lover takes his length in hand and gives it a testing squeeze.

There's variability with this particular mod. He can stay smaller and softer, or grow larger and harder. Sometimes he lets Genji choose which. Mostly Zenyatta decides for him. Today feels like a maximum spec day and Genji seems to agree, stroking insistent fingers over smooth polymer until Zenyatta hits the limit of his mod, firm and thick. As soon as he's satisfied, Genji's hand slips down to the base of Zenyatta's cock, then deeper, probing between his thighs. Clever fingers slide between soft silicone folds, seeking out the solid golden bead hidden there. Zenyatta’s sexual mods are, of course, as carefully customized and aesthetically pleasing as the rest of his frame.

“It wasn't enough,” Genji finally answers, as he makes Zenyatta arch and hiss, two fingers stroking over the capacitive surface of his metallic clit. “Just enough I needed to use my dragon, but not enough to sate it. It won't let go until it's satisfied.”

Zenyatta grabs Genji's hips as his hand presses deeper between his thighs, slipping _inside_ , slick and easy with lubricant that's already starting to stain the sheets. Digging ivory claws in until they raise pinpricks of red, Zenyatta shoves Genji back on his lap until his swollen cock rests against the ample curve of his human's ass. There's a harsh electronic flange to his voice when he speaks, having difficulty modulating it, “So you offered me up in sacrifice?”

Genji laughs, and it's somehow underlain by a deep and satisfied growl that can't possibly come from human vocal cords. 

“You say that like you're not excited, babe,” he says with a grin full of fangs. His fingers pump steadily in and out of Zenyatta, lubricant spilling out around them, across his palm, dripping from his knuckles. The Omnic can't help but rock into Genji's thrusts, and the motion brings him double the pleasure as his cock rubs between Genji's cheeks. “But your body says different.”

The pleasure humming through Zenyatta’s systems has blunted his sharp tongue, and he doesn't bother to chastise Genji for the liberties his dragon-drunk lover is taking. But his claws are still sharp and he leaves lovely red lines across Genji's hips and rear, souvenirs for when he's sober and aching, to remind him to come beg for forgiveness.

For now the sting only has Genji arching and moaning, green fire swirling under his skin. He pulls his fingers from Zenyatta, leaving his cunt clenching on air at the sudden emptiness. He might have voiced a complaint, if only he weren't left speechless by Genji lifting dripping wet digits to his mouth, tongue flicking out for a quick taste of Zenyatta's slick. 

“He wants to taste,” Genji says, his hand disappearing back behind him to curl around Zenyatta's length, stroking until it's as slick as his folds. That's all he needs before he lifts his hips and sinks down onto his lover's thick synthetic cock. His eyes slide shut as he takes Zenyatta to the hilt, lips parted to let a moan of utter delight escape. When his eyes open again, there's only pure hunger in them. He hardly pauses before beginning to rock his hips, steady and unyielding.

“Let him taste you,” Genji purrs, hardly out of breath despite his hard pace. Power and greed twist in the air around their joined bodies, so thick it would clog his intakes were it physical. The miasma throbs in time with Genji's pulse, with each grind of his hips. The sensation of spectral scales is unceasing now, leaving Zenyatta feeling raw from the inside out. Every part of his body tingles with static energy. Genji rocks harder. “Let us taste your power.”

And how can Zenyatta deny such a request? How, when Genji is so beautiful like this, with his long hair loose and wild, his body glistening with sweat, the green light inside his skin highlighting his toned physique? How can he say no when Genji moves so perfectly against him, around him, when the way his cock disappears into his lover's body over and over is so hypnotic? How can he reject the desires of such a powerful being, that feels like it could devour him whole but only asks for a taste?

“My power,” Zenyatta says, voice soft and full of static. He pushes himself up into a sitting position, careful not to dislodge the man who rides him so well. He grips Genji's chin and tugs him close for a not-quite-kiss. The human's breath is hot on his faceplate, painting it with ephemeral blossoms of condensation. “This power?”

Golden light dances between the fingers of his free hand as he calls to life an orb of pure harmony before setting it free to bob in the tide of energy eddying around Genji. It's a gift to watch the change comes over his lover. The hunger and intense focus fading away to leave behind only deep bliss, utter devotion filling Genji to the brim until it spills out in waves across Zenyatta’s spiritual senses. The dragon's fierce desire doesn't ebb, however, only twists hungrily around the harmony flowing between Omnic and human. There's worship in Genji's eyes in the moment before they flutter shut and he arches in a moment of complete ecstasy, calling out Zenyatta's name like he's the only thing that matters in the universe. Then he shudders and comes in thick lines across Zenyatta's belly, staining the exquisite silk of his kasaya. 

There's hardly a lull in the storm of energy and desire before Genji's mouth crushes against Zenyatta’s faceplate, teeth raking shallow scratches into the metal, desperate fingers curling in where Zenyatta's cranium meets his spine, twisting into delicate wires. Blood smears between them, friction pulling open the rapidly scabbing glyph. It seems harmony can't temper a dragon's hunger, and already Genji is rocking in his lap, his spent cock starting to harden once more. But while the hunger remains strong, Genji's focus has drifted, lost in the synergistic euphoria of orgasm and golden harmony. Strong Omnic fingers curl over Genji's hips, dragging him down hard enough to make skin slap audibly against his unyielding thighs. Genji's yelp suggests it stings. The twitch of Genji's length against his belly proves he likes it. With firm hands, Zenyatta grasps the reins of their unexpected tryst. 

“More,” Genji moans, peppering Zenyatta’s face with wet kisses as he's speared deep on his cock, over and over, the pace ruthless, Omnic strength working counterpoint to dragon-fueled muscle. “Zen, please.”

Zenyatta doesn't let up, even as he reaches up to brush damp strands of hair out of Genji’s face to tuck behind his ear. The static in his voice has faded slightly, his self-control wrested back bit by excruciating bit with the familiarity of dominating his lover. “More?”

He punctuates the question by slamming his hips up to meet Genji’s.

“Fuck! Yes!” Their bodies move together in beautiful harmony. 

“More power?” Zenyatta asks, claws carding affectionately through his human's hair. 

“Yes, yes-!” The heavy air coils around them in rising excitement. 

“ _All_ of it?” His voice drops low, soft and dangerous, but Genji is either oblivious or beyond caring. Ah, his dear disobedient human, surely he knows his transgressions wouldn't go unpunished? Especially not when he's begging so sweetly for it. 

“ _Please!_ ”

Deceptively gentle, Zenyatta twines Genji’s hair around his fingers and turns his head with a tug so he can speak directly into his ear, metal cool against overheated skin. He hesitates just a moment, wondering if what he plans is playing with dragonfire, so to speak. But if the warmth of harmony can't sate a dragon's hunger, then perhaps something else can?

“I know the doubts that plague you,” he purrs against Genji’s ear as he lets the golden orb die with a flick of his fingers and replaces with a crackle of dark energy. He can feel the discord flooding Genji like so much oozing ichor, seeping deep inside to find old scars and rip the wounds open anew until they bleed pain and darkness. Despair, anger, hatred, fear… Such a sublime discordant symphony.

Zenyatta anticipates the way Genji comes apart in his arms: how his body goes stiff, his mouth opening wide in a silent scream, the way his eyes go wide and fill with tears. The sudden drop from euphoria to misery enough to shake even the strongest minds to their core.

What he doesn't expect is the dragon’s fierce and utter _delight._ With a harsh flare of excitement, the supernatural energy lashes out, shattering lamps and priceless vases and mirrors and every other fragile thing that decorates the room. Power slams through Zenyatta like colliding with a wall and his systems stutter. Concentration shattered, his orb blinks out. He's only distantly aware of Genji collapsing against his chest, cursing prolifically between great gulps of air. It's hard to notice physical things when a dragon is screaming fit to rattle his soul, ethereal claws and teeth tearing at him, like seeking like, demanding more, more, _more!_

Zenyatta tries to center himself against the onslaught, reaching first for harmony. It's due to years of self-discipline that he manages to balance himself enough to form another golden globe to set free in the air around them. The dragon calms slightly, the pressure around them easing just a fraction. Warm like engulfs them and Genji's breathing settles. _Balance, balance._ Not wanting to disappoint the creature bound in his human's bones, Zenyatta forms a second orb, dark energy rising to join gold, discord and harmony orbiting weightlessly around each other. 

“Holy shit,” Genji gasps, the power of the Iris tugging him to and fro like the tide, with waves of contrasting sensation. Warm and safe and cold and scared and-- 

_Hungry._

There's too much power in this room, too dense, too chaotic, their auras tangling together tighter and tighter, driven by a dragon's hunger--Genji’s hunger, Zenyatta‘s hunger--until they begin to bleed together at the edges. The line between Genji and dragon blurs, between dragon and Zenyatta, Zenyatta and Genji, shared desire knitting them tight. Making them more, making them--

The sound of doors slamming open interrupts, foreign presences imposing themselves on the knot of human-Omnic-dragon, and they seethe as one.

“Master Zenyatta, are you-!” Omnics. Holding guns. Zenyatta’s guards, his followers. _They didn't know Genji was here. They heard things breaking and thought the worst._ **How dare they interrupt.**

Zenyatta’s head snaps up to glare at the intruders-- _they're only here to protect him_ \--even as he slams Genji flat against the mattress, blanketing the human with his body, trying to hide him away from prying optics. Genji isn't for them, not like this, only he gets to see his-- **Lover/Host** \--like this!

“Get out!” Zenyatta snaps alongside a hiss that comes from Genji’s mouth. They're irritated/anxious/impatient/jealous/possessive, get out, _get out_ , **he's busy**! 

The guards hesitate a moment, perhaps stunned by the spectacle of _\--_ discord _/harmony/_ **dragon** \--their leader in such as state. The anger in the air rises-- **hurt them, punish them** \--and when Zenyatta snaps at them again, it's with a wave of discord to enforce his will. 

The intruders vanish with a slam of doors. There is regret. **They would have put up a good fight, the violence would have been entertaining** / _Abusing his brothers and sisters in such a fashion over a human, he must apologize and explain tomorrow, somehow_ /Zenyatta’s gonna be really pissed about this later.

But there are hands on his face and lips against metal and desire rapidly drowns out every other emotion in their tangle. So they move together, intertwined, body against body, soul and soul, pushing inside, taking, a celebration of power and pleasure. Time becomes meaningless. 

Genji on his back, Genji in his lap, Genji bent and stretched, Genji every which way, he wants it all, he wants to devour him whole, he wants to touch power, more power, share with him, **give it _all_** _._

They reach for it all, and through Zenyatta they pass into the Iris. Into oneness, togetherness, the certainty of being whole. Into dissolution, loss of self, of being nothing because you are everything. Two sides, a single coin. A single being.

Light blossoms around them, filling the room, filling their bodies. Zenyatta’s hands grip Genji’s thighs, hold his wrists tight, comb through sweat-soaked hair, stroke his cock, press fingers into his mouth, and the dragon is all around them, with them, inside them, and they are all one within the Iris.

\---

“Zen. Can't breathe.”

With a sound that's more static than groan, Zenyatta finds the energy to roll off of Genji’s back and sprawl across the ruined sheets. His systems are sluggish, running in their lowest energy state without going into standby. The air is quiet and empty, Genji’s dragon having retreated to wherever it sleeps when its power is not called upon.

“You mad at me?” Genji’s voice is muffled, face down on the bed, too wrung out to bother even lifting his head. 

Zenyatta can sympathize, even as he gropes about to find the charging leads that should be around here somewhere. “I will be. When I have enough energy to do it properly.”

“So I'm not getting kicked out of bed?” There are hands on Zenyatta’s power cables, and then Genji clicks the leads home. The warm buzz of electricity charging his batteries has Zenyatta sighing with relief. Genji gets no thanks, however. Instead Zenyatta offers a noncommittal noise in answer to the question.

“Oh good,” Genji says. “Because I can't feel my legs.”

Zenyatta takes a moment to feel smug before settling into quietly planning his revenge. Next to him, Genji begins to softly snore. 


End file.
